“Right. I keep forgetting you’re not from here.”
Haven falls silent as I work over the stove, cooking up our dinner. When I catch her out of the corner of my eye, she appears deep in thought, so I keep quiet and let her sort through whatever’s on her mind.
When I finish, I ask her to grab a couple of plates so I can serve us. She hops off the counter and starts opening cabinets until she finds what she’s looking for.
“Is it hard being here? In the human world, I mean?” she asks as I load her plate with rice and cover it with a generous portion of chicken and veggies.
“That feels like a loaded question,” I say, struggling to know how to answer.
She waits as I make my own plate.
When we sit down at the table, she says, “It has to be hard. Everything must be so different than what you’re used to.”
I shrug. “Not as different as you might think. Our worlds affect each other somehow, so we have similar technology and geographic boundaries. The things we use magic for, the human world compensates in other ways.”
“Like what?” She takes a bite of her food, and her eyes go wide as she chews. “This is good. Like, really good,” she says around a mouthful.
It makes me happy that she likes it. I don’t think too deeply about why.
“Thanks. Well, for one thing, your weapons are more advanced than ours. Creatures have always relied heavily on their magic during battles and combat. I think humans have compensated for that by developing more complex and deadly weapons.”
“What an accomplishment,” she says sarcastically. “We’ve found more creative ways to kill each other.”
“Generally speaking, though, being here isn’t as shocking as you might think, considering it’s a different world altogether. It’s a little like going to a foreign country where you don’t know the customs and pop culture.”
“Hmm,” she says as she chews. “That’s a good way of explaining it. But besides the differences, just being away from your regular life has to be hard.”
She stares at me, wide-eyed, pity heavy in her gaze.
I take a bite, buying myself a few moments to figure out how to respond to that.
The truth is, being in the human world has been somewhat of a relief. Sure, I miss my parents and Ensley, but ever since Chaos, I’ve felt adrift.
I’m glad I’m no longer the dragon heir. Being under the thumb of the dragon council isn’t something I’ll ever allow again, but if I’m being honest, being the dragon heir did give me a sense of purpose that I don’t have anymore.
When I returned from the human world after the battle in Central Park, I tried to go back to who I was before. In hindsight, the idea of getting together with Locklyn had less to do with her and more to do with holding on to myself.
The things that have happened in the human world changed us. We were no longer the same people, no longer fitting as we had before.
I think a normal person would feel disoriented and homesick being in a whole different world, but the truth is, deep down, all I feel is relief.
“I don’t really think about it much,” I say, and shovel another forkful of stir fry into my mouth.
Haven cocks her head. “But don’t you at least miss your friends and family?”
I shrug. “Sure. I miss my parents and sister, but I haven’t been gone that long.”
Haven must be intuitive, because the look in her eyes says that she knows I’m hiding something. I can almost see the gears in her head turning as she tries to figure out what.
“The truth is,” I say, caving, because if she keeps pushing she’ll get it out of me anyway. “Being here is a lot simpler. There aren’t the same expectations I face at home, and the goal is clear. Back in the creature world, when I was the dragon heir, it was all politics and pressure to?—”
“Whoa, wait. Back up. Dragon heir? What’s that?” She puts down her fork and leans forward, her eyes gleaming with interest. “Sounds important.”
Haven doesn’t let me go on without explaining the dragon shifter political structure to her. After that, I field questions about the creature world: the different types of creatures, how we interact with each other—anything and everything that comes to her mind. Her eyes stay wide when I talk about all the different magic specialties, and I have to remind her to keep eating several times because she’s so engaged.
Eventually, the conversation shifts to Locklyn, and I find myself sharing stories of our exploits as children—especially the trouble my sister, Ensley, used to get Locklyn in.
The sun has long since set and our leftover food has gone cold as we talk, the conversation flowing easily.
